Author's Notes: I am soo sorry for the delay. I had gone away for New Year's and when I came back I had no time in between to upload before I started school again, which btw is really, freakin hard! Our profs have decided to increase our workload for no apparent reason. Anyways I hope the extra long chapter and good ole Nick getting his ass handed to him will make up for it. I added a little Spashley just to entice you guys and I'm happy to announce that Spashley will finally meet in the next chapter. Kudos to all who've reviewed so far. I hope you're still with me. Enjoy!

Chapter 5:

Ashley Targaryen wed Khal Drogo in splendor, even though she was afraid. They married in a field just beyond the walls of Pentos for the Dothkari believed that the most important things that happen in a man's life should be done beneath the sky.

The ceremony started in the morning and continued until dusk, an endless day of drinking and feasting and fighting. An earthen ramp had been constructed among the various Dothkari manses and that was where Ashley was seated beside Khal Drogo, above a boisterous crowd of Dothkari warriors. Fear ran through Ashley at regular intervals as she had never seen so many strange and frightening people all in one place. They gorged themselves on horseflesh roasted with honey and peppers, drank themselves blind on fermented mare's milk and Illyrio's wines, and taunted each other across the fires, their voices harsh and alien to Ashley's ears.

Nicholas sat just below her, dressed in a new black wool tunic with a scarlet dragon on the chest. Illyrio and Ser Jorah, an exiled knight who had joined them, sat beside him. Their seats where places of high honour, just below the khal's own bloodriders, but Ashley could see the anger in Nicholas' eyes. He did not like sitting beneath her, and he fumed when the slaves would offer the khal and his bride each dish first then served him from the portions they had refused. He could do nothing but nurse his resentment, so nurse it he did with his mood growing blacker by the hour at each insult to his person.

Ashley had never felt so alone before as she sat in the midst of the horde. Her brother had told her to smile, so she did until her face ached and the tears cam unbidden to her eyes. She did her best to hide them in case Nicholas should see them, knowing how angry he would be if he saw the tears, terrified of how her new husband would react if he saw them. There was no one to talk to. Khal Drogo shouted commands and jests to his bloodriders and laughed at their replies but he scarcely glanced at Ashley. They had no common language. She would have even welcomed the conversation of Illyrio and her brother but they were too far below her to hear her anyway. So she sat in her wedding silks, nursing a cup of honeyed wine, afraid to eat, talking silently to herself. I am blood of the dragon, she told herself. I am Ashley Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone, of the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror.

The sun was only a quarter of the way up the sky when she saw her first man die. Drums were beating as some women danced for the khal. Drogo watched without any expression but his eyes followed their movements, and from time to time he would toss down a bronze medallion which the women would fight over. The warriors were watching too. One of them finally stepped into the circle and grabbed a dancer by the arm, pushed her down and mounted her right there, as a stallion would mount a mare. Illyrio had warned her of this but it did not defer Ashley from looking away at the coupling. A second, then a third warrior stepped forward and soon there was no way she could avoid the scene in front of her. Two men then seized the same woman. She heard a shout, saw a shove and in the blink of an eye, the men began a dance of swords. No one made a move to interfere. It ended as quickly as it had begun. A slight mistake by one man and the other capitalised and killed him. Slaves carried off the body and the dancing resumed. Magister Illyrio had warned Ashley of this as well. "A Dothkari wedding without at least three deaths is deemed a dull affair," he had said. Her wedding must have been especially blessed, before the day was over, a dozen men had died.

When the sun at last was low in the sky, Khal Drogo clapped his hands together, and the drums and the shouting and feasting came to a sudden halt. Drogo stood and pulled Ashley to her feet beside him. It was time for her bride gifts. After her gifts, she knew, once the sun had gone down, it would be the time for the first ride and the consummation of the marriage. Ashley tried to push that particular thought aside but it would not leave her mind. She hugged herself to keep from shaking and showing her fear outright. Her brother gifted her with three handmaids which she knew had cost him nothing as Illyrio had no doubt provided the girls. Two were copper-skinned Dothkari with black hair and almond-shaped eyes while the third was a fair-haired, green-eyed Lysene girl. "These are no common servant girls, sister," her brother had stated as he presented each girl forward. "Illyrio and I selected them personally. Irri will teach you to ride, Jhiqui the Dothkari tongue, and Doreah will instruct you in the womanly arts of love." He smiled thinly. "She's very good, Illyrio and I can attest to that." Ser Jorah had apologised for his gift as he had deemed it small and all an exile could afford. He had presented her a small stack of old books, histories and songs of the Seven Kingdoms which were written in the Common Tongue. She thanked him with all her heart. Magister Illyrio had murmured a command and four burly slaves had hurried forward with a great cedar chest. Inside Ashley found piles of the finest velvets and silks, and nestled on top, three huge eggs. They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen, each different from the other. The surface of the egg she had lifted to see was covered in tiny scales which shimmered like polished metal in the sun. One egg was a deep green with burnished bronze flecks, another was pale cream streaked with gold and the last, black as a midnight sea with scarlet ripples and swirls. "What are they?" she asked in awe.

"Dragon's eggs from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai," said Magister Illyrio. "A perfect gift for one of the dragon no?" At last, Khal Drogo brought forth his own gift to his bride. A silence filled the khalasar. He stepped forward with a young filly, spirited and splendid. Ashley knew enough about horses to know that this was no ordinary horse. There was something about the animal that took her breath away. The filly was grey with a mane like silver smoke. Ashley reached out slowly and stroked the horse's neck before murmuring "She's beautiful." Drogo stepped towards her and lifted her by the waist onto the horse. Ashley nervously gathered the reins in her hands and lightly tapped the filly with her knees. And for the first time in hours, she forgot to be afraid.

When she returned her fear returned with her as the last sliver of the sun set, indicating that Ashley had lost track of time. As the khal was saddling his own horse, Nicholas slid close to Ashley on her silver, dug his fingers into her leg, and said, "Please him sweet sister, or I swear you will see the dragon wake as it has never woken before." They rode out together and drove their horses hard. Khal Drogo said nothing the entire distance and when they finally stopped, tears were falling freely down Ashley's eyes. Khal Drogo gently lifted her off the horse and set her down on a rounded rock near a stream. He sat on the ground, facing her, and wiped away her tears. He pointed to his braid and to Ashley, indicating that he wanted her to undo his braid. This took a long time and all the while he sat silently, watching her. Once she was done he began to undress her. His fingers were deft and strangely tender. He removed every piece of clothing, leaving Ashley feeling bare and insecure. He sat down on the rock and pulled Ashley onto his lap where he began to slowly touch her, in order to get her to relax. After what seemed like hours he finally stopped, leaving Ashley feeling flushed and breathing hard. He cupped her face in his huge hands and waited for her approval. She took his hand and moved it down to the wetness between her thighs. She nodded silently to him as she put his finger inside her.

"The Dothkari sea," Ser Jorah Mormont said as he reined to a halt beside her on top of the ridge. Beneath them, the plain stretched out immense and empty, as far as they could see. It was a sea, Ashley thought. The phrase brought last night's dream to the forefront of her mind. She had been walking along a beach, something which she had been dreaming of for a few weeks now. This time though, she had noticed a girl in front of her. The girl looked nothing like the Dothkari women she was surrounded by. She was blonde and had the most shocking colour of blue in her eyes. Those eyes had stilled her and she had just stared. The girl had opened her mouth to speak but Ashley had been ripped out of her dreams by her brother's demand to see the khal just outside her manse. Those blue eyes had haunted her morning. Ashley set on forgetting them, she would never meet the girl out here. Her musings were interrupted by voices behind them. She and Mormont had outdistanced the rest of their party, and now the others were climbing the ridge to join them. Her handmaid, Irri, and the young archers of her khas were fluid as centaurs, but Nicholas still struggled with the short stirrups and the flat saddle, he was miserable. He should have never come. Magister Illyrio had suggested for him to wait in Pentos but Nicholas would have none of it. He would stay with Drogo until the debt had been paid, until he had the crown he had been promised. "And if he tries to cheat me, he will learn to his sorrow what it means to wake the dragon," Nicholas had vowed, laying a hand on his borrowed sword. Illyrio had blinked at that and wished him good fortune.

The ride at first had not come easy to Ashley, just as like her brother. The khalasar had broken camp the morning after the wedding, moving east towards Vaes Dothkari, and by the third day Ashley thought she was going to die. Saddle sores opened on her bottom, her thighs were chafed raw, her hands blistered from the reins and the muscles in her legs and back would be so painful that she could scarcely sit. Her handmaids would help her down from her mount when the sun set. Even the nights had no relief. Drogo ignored her during the ride and spent his evenings drinking with his riders yet every night, some time before dawn, Drogo would enter her tent and wake her in the dark to ride her relentlessly as he rode his stallion. He always took her from behind, the Dothkari way, which Ashley preferred as she could hide her tears and cries of pain in her pillow. When he was done he would roll over and begin to snore softly while Ashley would lie beside him, too sore and bruised to sleep. Day after day and every night the trend continued until she could endure no longer. She would kill herself rather than go on, she decided one night. That night, as she slept, she dreamt of the dragon again and this time Nicholas was not there. Its scales were black as night, wet and slick with blood. Her blood, Ashley sensed. Its eyes were pools of molten magma and when it opened its mouth, the flame came roaring out in a hot jet. She could hear it singing to her and she opened her arms to embrace it. She could feel her flesh burning, sear and blacken and slough away, her blood boil and turn to steam and yet there was no pain. Then she would feel a hand gently stroking through her hair as if lulling her to sleep. She would hear a voice above the roar of the dragon and the heat and flame would melt away, becoming cool grass beside a steady stream. She would feel completely at ease, safe and content. Turning her face and opening her eyes, she would see those blue eyes again, calling to her. Then she awoke, feeling strong and new and fierce.

The next day, strangely, she did not seem to hurt quite so much. It was if the gods had heard her and taken pity. That night, when Khal Drogo came, Ashley was waiting for him. He had stood at the tent door and looked at her in surprise. She rose slowly and let her sleeping silks fall. "This night we must go outside, my lord," she told him, for the Dothkari believed that all things of importance in a man's life must be done under the open sky. Khal Drogo followed her into the moonlight and when he tried to turn her over she had out a hand on his chest. "No," she said. "This night I would look on your face." His eyes were the only ones that mattered and she saw something in them she had never seen before. She rode him as fiercely as she had ever ridden her silver, and when his moment of pleasure came, Khal Drogo called out her name. When he had come to, he had brushed the soft swell of her stomach with his fingers and looked at her. She had smiled slightly and whispered "I know." It had been her seventeenth name day.

Nicholas came upon her suddenly, his horse rearing beneath him as he reined in too hard. "You dare!" he screamed at her. "You give commands to me? To me?" he vaulted off his horse, stumbling as he landed. His face was flushed as he struggled to his feet again. He grabbed her, shook her. "Have you forgotten who you are? Look at you. Look at you!" Ashley did not look. She knew how she looked, barefoot, oiled hair, wearing Dothkari riding leathers and a painted vest given to her as a wedding gift. She looked as if she belonged. Nicholas was soiled and stained in his city silk and ringmail. He was till screaming. "You do not command the dragon. So you understand? I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, I will not hear orders from some horselord's slut, do you hear me?" his hand went under her vest, his fingers digging painfully into her breast. "Do you hear me?" Ashley shoved him hard and he stumbled again. Nicholas stared at her in shock. She had never defied him, never fought back. Rage twisted his features, he would hurt her now, and badly, she knew that.

Crack. The whip took Nicholas around the throat and yanked him backward. He went sprawling in the grass, stunned and chocking. The Dothkari riders hooted at him as he tried to free himself. The one with the whip, young Jhogo, rasped out "Would you have him dead khaleesi?"

"No," Ashley replied. "No."

One of the others barked out a comment which was spoken too fast for Ashley to understand. Irri translated for her, "Quaro thinks you should take an ear to teach him respect."

"I do not wish him harmed," Ashley stated as she watched her brother crying incoherently, struggling for breath.

Jhogo gave a pull on the whip, yanking Nicholas around like a puppet on a string. He went sprawling again, freed from the leather coil, a thin line of blood under his chin where the whip had cut him.

"I warned him what would happen, my lady," Ser Mormont stated. "I told him to stay on the ridge, as you commanded."

"I know you did," Ashley replied watching her brother. He lay on the ground, sucking in air noisily, red-faced and sobbing. He was a pitiful thing, he always had been. Why had she never seen this before? There was a hollow place inside her where her fear had been. "Take his horse," Ashley commanded. "Let my brother walk behind us back to the khalasar." Among the Dothkari, a man who does not ride was no man at all, the lowest of the low, without honour or pride, which was why Nicholas was gaping at her. "Let everyone see him as he is."

"No!" Nicholas screamed. He turned to Ser Mormont and spoke in Common Tongue. "Hit her Mormont. Hurt her. Your king commands it. Kill these Dothkari dogs and teach her."

The exile knight looked from Ashley to her brother; she barefoot, with dirt between her toes and oil in her hair, he with his silks and steel. "He shall walk khaleesi," he said. He took Nicholas' horse in hand while Ashley remounted hers and their party rode ahead of him, leaving him behind in the tall grass.

When they could not see him anymore Ashley grew afraid. "Will he find his way back?" she asked Ser Jorah as they rode.

"Even a man as blind as he should be able to follow our trail," he replied.

"I hit him," she said, wonder in her voice. Now that it was over, it seemed like a strange dream. "Ser Jorah, do you think…he'll be so angry when he gets back…" she shivered. "I have woken the dragon, haven't I?"

Ser Jorah snorted. "Can you wake the dead, girl? Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon, and he died on the Trident. Nicholas is less than a shadow of a snake."

"He is still the true king. He is…" Ashley began.

Jorah pulled up his horse and looked at her. "Truth now. Would you want to see Nicholas sit on the throne?"

Ashley thought about that. "he would not be a very good king, would he?"

"There have been worse…but not many." The knight gave his heels to his mount and started off again.

Ashley rode close to him. "Still," she said, "the common people are waiting for him. Magister Illyrio says they are sewing banners and praying for Nicholas to return from across the narrow sea to free them."

"The common people pray for rain, healthy children, and a summer that never ends," Ser Jorah told her. "It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace." He gave a shrug. "They never are."

Ashley rode along quietly as his words began to fit in her head like a puzzle. It went against everything Nicholas had ever told her to think. Yet the more she thought about it, the more she realized how true Jorah's words were. "What do you pray for, Ser Jorah?" she asked him after some time.

"Home," he said. His voice was thick with longing.

"I pray for home too," she told him, believing it.

Ser Jorah laughed. "Look around you then, khaleesi."

But it was not the plains Ashley saw then. It was King's Landing and the great Red Keep that Aegon the Conqueror had built. It was Dragonstone where she had been born. In her mind's eye they burned with a thousand lights, a fire blazing in every window. In her mind's eye all the doors were red. One in particular, always led her to the same place. A quiet voice, a soft hand and sea-blue eyes.